


Writing on the Wall

by littlewonder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Closeted Character, Gay Character, Gossip, Graffiti, John Watson Plays Rugby, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is hiding a secret. He's in love with John Watson. So instead of telling him to his face, he writes on the school's graffiti wall, where he thinks no one will ever care.But when John's friends find it, they see right away who it's about, and set out to track down the original author.





	Writing on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to tumblr](https://isitanylittlewonder.tumblr.com/post/158770399559/love-in-mind-palace-viktorextraforov)

There was a wall. The majority of the student body passed it every day, many stopping to read the messages plastered across, some loitering by it, others passing messages to each other on it. And some, some who confessed their secrets upon it.

A black-haired boy approached the wall one morning on his way into school. He stopped, compelled, drawn to the wall. He had come to school early that morning, and was planning to study or read while he waited for school to start. No one was around. And he was burning with the one secret he wanted to say, but was too afraid to.

He cast his eyes over the wall, looking at everyone else’s messages, as though hoping to gain courage from them. There were simple messages, and conversations, and graffiti, and drawings. Each one was unique, a brief glimpse into the lives of other people, something to be learned. And if he was one tiny voice amongst all of this noise, how big of a risk could it be? Nobody could surely care about such a person. It was barely a risk.

Unable to resist, he approached the wall and took off his bag, pulling a pen from his bag. Blue pen, less likely to stand out than, say, a sharpie. He wrote his confession:

I’m gay and hopelessly in love with the rugby captain

He wrote it just at the edge of a big bit of graffiti, surrounded by far bigger messages. No one would see it there. Just something to get off his chest. And he could observe anyone who did react to it from a safe distance.

But what was the likelihood of that?

–

A group of rugby players were passing the wall when they stopped to look for any new additions. They were waiting on a friend, and they were bored.

“Hey, look at this one!” one of the boys, Mike, pointed out. The boys gathered round.

“That’s about our Johnny boy!”

“We should tell him!”

“No. I’ve got a better idea,” said Mike, and pulled out his phone. He took a picture. The boys gathered round to look at it, and tried to read it out. Some managed to make out pieces, but it was too small to be really sure.

“We’ll put it on the computer,” Mike suggested. “I can blow it up.”

“Know what else you should do? Print it out. I bet there are other kids in this school who are smarter than us who could read it.”

“Oh my god, we could track this kid down and set him up with our Johnny boy! He just came out, we could set them up!”

“Alright, but let’s not tell him. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Yeah!” the boys agreed.

“Hands in,” said Mike. They put their hands in. “On the count of three, Johnny boy. One… two… three…”

“Johnny boy!”

–

They decided to make flyers. Mike made them at home, and brought them to school with him. There weren’t that many, just one for each of them to show around. But then the school got talking, and they started coming up to the boys for their own copies. So Mike made more.

Before he knew it, he was passing out tens of copies. Finally, one of them walked up to John to pass along a few ideas. That’s when they knew they were in trouble.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, passing over the flyer he had gotten.

“Where did you get this?”

“There all over the school, apparently! A girl came up to me with a few suggestions, and I asked her for the flyer.”

“Well?” said Mike. “What did she say?”

“It doesn’t matter! Guys, why did you think it was okay to try to set me up like this? Just because I came out to you, doesn’t mean you suddenly have a say in my love life…” He sighed. “Besides. I’m not interested. I don’t want some random guy you just picked up. I want…”

Mike waited. “What?”

“Just, take these back. Take them all back. Stop this search. I’m not interested.”

“We can’t just stop the search, everyone’s looking! We’ve probably passed out 50 flyers by now! What’ll happen if we try to take them back? You think they’ll just stop? I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t care what you’d do. Just take them back. Tell everyone to stop searching. Everyone’ll forget eventually.”

“Unless someone finds something.”

“I don’t want anyone to find something. Just take it back. Tell them I’m not interested. I don’t care how disappointed they are, just put an end to it.”

“Why don’t you want anyone to find anything? Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

“No, I’m not,” said John.

“Why not?” asked Mike.

“Well… not that it’s any of your business. But I like someone.”

“A guy?”

“None of your business.”

“Maybe it’s our guy.”

“It isn’t. Stop searching,” said John. And he walked away.

–

John would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit flattered by it, the message. He kept the flyer that girl had given him, and sometimes he had to admit he was drawn to it, curious. Not that he’d ever tell Mike or the others about that; it’d only encourage them. But he did want to know.

But it couldn’t be Sherlock, and he was the only guy he really cared about. Sherlock Holmes, the cute lab partner with the stunning eyes he got to see up close at least once a week. He had those gorgeous curls, long neck and elegant cheekbones. And the way he lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, the speed at which that clever moved… God, what an angel.

But Sherlock didn’t even like him, he was sure of it. He was always looking down or away, never looking at him. Once he could’ve sworn he saw him looking across the room at Irene Adler. So, not gay, then. Impossible.

The truth was, he had no chance with Sherlock Holmes, none at all. And what would a man like that want with a stocky boy like him, anyway? But John felt he could hardly focus on anyone else at the moment, still wasn’t over him. And he certainly didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else till he was.

John wasn’t even sure there was any getting over Sherlock Holmes, but one thing was for certain, he wouldn’t get over him by dating anyone else; he’d already tried. Sherlock Holmes, in fact, was the person who inspired him to come out. If he was this obsessed over him, there was surely no denying it. And Mike knew him better than anyone; he knew he’d at least understand. Turned out he wasn’t the only one. And he had a big mouth.

People still came up to him and told him their theories sometimes, but he always told them the same thing. Mike and his friends still took the mick and pressed him for the name of the guy he liked, and he ignored. John kind of felt bad for whoever wrote that message on the wall, reasoning that anyone who wrote such a small message probably didn’t expect everyone to jump upon, but right now he felt more bad for himself; he didn’t know this kid, after all. And he was suffering right now.

John had barely sat down to his desk in English class before Mike slipped a piece of paper under his nose.

“What is this?”

“List of people the school reckons wrote that note.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” said John. He passed it back roughly. “It ever occur to you that this kid might not want to be found?”

“Come on, just look at the list,” said Mike, passing the note back.

“Class is soon.”

“Since when did you care?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Ooh, big old poet, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, we have a few minutes till the teacher gets here. Just read it.”

John sighed. Fine. He looked down at the list.

He read the names silently to himself. Then he froze.

“Hey, Mike, you fucked up. Sherlock Holmes is on this list.”

“That’s no fuck up. That girl you wouldn’t listen to the other day? She told me his handwriting resembles Sherlock’s, who she sat next to in class sometimes.”

“He’s not gay. He likes Irene Adler. He’s bi, maybe, but he’s not gay.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard she asked him out, and he turned her down.”

John looked at Mike in shock. “Why would he do that? She’s perfect for him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like her, mate.”

“Impossible.”

“He’s the bloke you like, isn’t he?”

John turned away, scanning Sherlock’s name over and over again, as if expecting it to turn into Sherlock’s handwriting. It wasn’t; memorising it, he realised it was actually Mike’s handwriting. He sighed.

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You do like him, don’t you?”

John said nothing.

–

John didn’t really know what to do. After he found out Sherlock might not actually be straight, might not actually like Irene, might even like him, he knew he had to say something. But he didn’t know what he could say. And god, he was terrified.

“Heard a rumour about you,” he said in Science one day.

Sherlock looked at him like a deer in headlight. God, he looked terrified.

“…that Irene asked you out, and you refused.”

Sherlock’s face fell, relieved. “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” said John.

“Mind me asking why?”

Sherlock looked away. “Didn’t fancy her,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” said John, sounded entirely too excited. “Sorry, I mean… Are you alright?” 

Sherlock looked at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You seem kinda down. Now I think of it, you’ve looked like that a lot lately. Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You thought I was about to say something else before. People are spreading rumours about you?”

“Kinda. It’s not really that, though.”

“Well, what is it?”

“My parents. They’re kinda homophobic – I mean –“

“So it’s true. You’re gay.”

“You heard that?”

“Might have done. I mean, it’s fine –“

“No, it’s not. If they ever found out…”

“Probably should’ve dated Irene,” joked John.

“I’m not gonna pretend to be something I’m not.”

“You kinda are already, aren’t you?”

“It’s different.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Sherlock. “You’re already. And everyone still loves you.”

“You think your parents won’t.”

“No idea. Can’t take that chance.”

“They really that bad?” asked John softly.

“It’s the small things,” said Sherlock.

–

Mike told all his friends John liked Sherlock, and they zeroed in on him. John hated this way more than he’d hated them taking the mick out of himself. Over the next few days, he just got madder and madder every time he heard that they’d done something.

“MIKE, for god’s sake, STOP!” John snapped.

Mike did a double-take. “What?”

“I know you’ve been going hard at trying to find out if it’s him, and you’ve been really freaking him out! You ever think he might be in the closet?”

Mike stared, wide-eyed. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“You tell him you love him?” asked Mike.

“I – I don’t! I… I don’t know. I certainly couldn’t tell him that. What he needs right now is a friend, anyway. Not a lover.”

“And are you that shoulder to cry on?”

“He hasn’t been crying…”

“Still,” said Mike.

“Maybe.”

“Tell him,” said Mike. “Then we’ll know. He’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, and I won’t tell you.”

“You won’t need to. If you date him, we’ll know.”

“Then I can never date him! Is that what you want?”

“No…”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Some friend you are, Mike. I feel like you’ve been trying to thwart us this whole time! I wonder if you’re really as supportive of my bisexuality as you claim to be…”

“John! It’s not like that! We love you! We only want you to be happy!”

“Do you?”

Mike sighed. “Fine, I’ll back off. Go date your boy.”

John looked suspiciously at Mike. Then he walked away.

–

“Do you like me?”

John had walked straight up to Sherlock in the hallway, unable to hold it back anymore. Sherlock just blinked.

“What?”

“Do you like me?”

“I…”

“We don’t have to do anything about, if you don’t want to right now,” John reassured him. “I just… really like you, okay? And I just wanted you to know that.”

“You do?”

John smiled. “Yeah.”

“I like you too.”

John’s grin grew wider. Sherlock smiled back.

“Good.”


End file.
